


We Used to Be Golden

by saradise48



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Assumptions, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saradise48/pseuds/saradise48
Summary: “Maybe it was McDavid that always made him look so good on the ice. He should get another year of development without him back in Erie before we really consider him for a final spot.”
“He’s just not NHL ready yet.”
“Back to Erie, then. Sorry, kid.”





	

Connor had called him from Edmonton, furious, when he had heard the news about Dylan getting sent down to Erie for the second time, less than a week before they were supposed to play against each other. He kept insisting how fucking stupid Arizona was not to see the gift they had gotten at third overall out of Dylan Strome. And it made Dylan blush, how Connor was so much more upset than he was about the comments that had been made afterwards. 

Dylan thought they all were probably right about how he became such a better player with Connor at his side on the ice. Things were great in Arizona, Dylan knew that was where he belonged—but it wasn’t the same as what he had had at one point in Erie. All of the dumb cliches were true; and as adapted as Dylan had become to the empty space beside him in Erie last season, it still stung when habit made him look across the ice or next to him on the bench and Connor wasn’t there to smile back at him. There were so many spaces he had inhabited with Connor for two years that he now lived in completely separate from him. Highlight reels and postgame interviews were nothing in comparison to what Dylan had once had. 

Connor in front of the Edmonton media was an entirely different person than the one Dylan had grown so attached to. More than a few people had asked in the past few years about how Connor seemed to almost come alive when he was with Dylan in a way he normally never did. Dylan had always described him as vanilla since he had known Connor just to piss him off, but those comments made him pay attention. Media training was a part of being the expected first overall pick, and Connor held onto it like it was his job rather than being a hockey player. But when Dylan started looking for it, he noticed. He noticed how Connor would smile, joke, be _himself_ in front of the camera if he was next to Dylan in ways he wouldn’t if he was the only one in the spotlight. 

Dylan wondered sometimes how if Connor’s attitude change was so obvious to so many, if the ways Dylan looked at Connor like he hung the stars before he caught himself staring were just as clearly written on his face. Fuck, he hoped not.

Honestly, as much as people said Dylan did for him, he knew subconsciously that Connor didn’t need him on the ice. He never did—he was fucking Connor McJesus, a one man show. But Dylan was okay with that; it wasn’t his job to make Connor shine as a player. He did that all on his own. 

Dylan’s job in Erie was to make Connor McDavid feel like just Connor, like he was a normal kid hanging out with his best friend, when they were together. And he fell into that role painfully easily by the time they were seventeen. None of the expectations to fix the Oilers, or to live up to the standard placed on him as The Next One existed when they were together. Dylan’s job was to make Connor feel like the seventeen or eighteen year old he was, enjoy the little indulgences he more than deserved to have. 

Connor would never order anything more than a salad at McDonald’s on all of the Otters’ road trips. He could never be tempted into the empty calories of anything else on the menu. But over time, Dylan learned if he got fries, inevitably, Connor stole at least a few, even if he knew Dylan was looking. They’d always end up splitting Dylan’s soda, too, if they were on the bus and Connor couldn’t get a refill on his water at the machine. Their week at BioSteel had been the same. Connor hadn’t even tried to defend his strict diet plan when Dylan drove them to the closest McDonald’s after their second day of training. 

He never directly said anything to Dylan after any of what Mitch called their McDonald’s dates, but on their walks back to the bus or to Dylan’s car, he always got a joking elbow to the ribs from Connor that Dylan missed so much the first season he was alone in Erie, he boycotted McDonald’s for the first four months he was back. Dylan didn’t like to think about who he had been replaced with on the Oilers’ roster to get Connor to focus on himself for once, even now. 

Dylan always assumed he would be the one to want to hold on to the past, their time in juniors together while Connor tore it up in the big show, shattering standards like he always had. And if how miserable Dylan was the first couple months back in Erie during Connor’s rookie year was anything to go by, he was pretty much spot on. 

Then, Connor was down on the ice in November and rumors were swirling for the rest of the game before management confirmed he had broken his collarbone and would need surgery while Dylan tried not to have a panic attack on the other side of the continent. He had said Dylan was the first one he called when he answered the phone later that night. Dylan had lost track of the time, unable to sleep until he had proof that Connor was okay. 

That had been the first real, substantial conversation he and Connor had in well over a month, even with Connor half out of it on pain medication the whole time. Dylan was relieved enough after they hung up to be able to sleep for a few hours that night, but he sat around anxiously in the hours he knew Connor would be in surgery the next day, unable to focus on anything else. And then Connor came home to Toronto and they were in the same time zone, a day trip apart and something in Dylan _settled._

Connor was within reach again. 

There was no way for Dylan to prepare himself to see Connor in person for the first time since they both left for Edmonton and Arizona in August a week after he got home. Some tiny part of Dylan had acknowledged Connor as objectively attractive long before, and even with the sling and mussed up hair from his flight, Dylan could still see what he had seen years before just as clearly. He didn’t know what to do with the sudden clench in his gut or the way he felt his face heat up when Connor saw him in the doorway and fucking _beamed_ before practically falling into Dylan’s arms. So he ignored it, and had with varying degrees of success since. 

Going into World Juniors, everyone had been saying this was Dylan’s chance to prove he didn’t need Connor to be one of the best in the world and to make the Coyotes roster. Mitch saw it as his chance to prove he had moved on from the codependency Dylan still found himself aching to return to at the worst of times. He didn’t think he needed to prove anything to anyone but himself. He knew the player he was without Connor and the player he was with him, and Dylan had finally started forcing himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be on Connor’s side, in the same colors again for a long time. 

More than anything, that week and a half was his time to prove to himself he could make it out of Erie with Connor no longer glued to his side. 

But somehow through all of this, Connor had decided he still wanted Dylan in his life, even while they spent the majority of their years in different time zones, different _countries._

It still shocked him sometimes when he thought about it too much and made him panic that he really wasn’t good at hiding how he felt about his best friend. 

Connor spent most of his time captaining an NHL team, living up to the hype he had entered the league with two years ago. Dylan was still sure every morning Connor woke up and decided who he was going to make a believer out of next. Yet, he still made room for Dylan. 

No matter how much he craved to return to what they did have before, Dylan still wasn’t really sure if even the few times a month he still got to talk to Connor were healthy for his mission of moving on from Erie and their shared past. Every time he thought he was making progress finding who Dylan Strome was without Connor McDavid both as a player and as a person, a new text or request to facetime would pop up on his phone from Connor. And Dylan definitely never had or would have the resolve to tell him no for anything he asked for.

He could try to distance himself all he wanted from their two years in each other’s pockets, but Dylan realized he loved him too much to be ever able to totally let go. Connor didn’t have to feel the same. Dylan determined that for himself the night Connor flew back to Edmonton after his injury as he laid in bed staring at the ceiling, already feeling like an empty space was taking over once again where Connor had reinhabited, even for a little while. Best friends would be enough and it would save the heartbreak that would come out of confronting his issues head on. Whatever Connor was willing to give all the way from Edmonton, Dylan would find a way to accept. 

And Dylan would always take what he could get when it came to Connor.

**Author's Note:**

> The McJesus references will never end
> 
> Title adapted from a line in Clairvoyant by The Story So Far


End file.
